Friday, July 17, 2009

Everybody has an article of clothing that is special, for whatever reason. It could be a pair of jeans, broken in, faded, comfortable, that no matter how worn they get you just can't bear to part with them. You have them too, right? A team jersey that holds memories of good times, goofy Hawaiian shirt, sweats, old tee shirts, or maybe outfits that no longer fit, but we hold out hope that by some miracle we just might lose those unwanted pounds and be able to wear them again. I have whole wardrobes of those. Not going to happen, but I keep hoping.

Being a vertically challenged person, with extra weight in the middle, makes shopping a real chore for me. Height-wise, the children's department is my best option, especially if items are loose, or they make it in a chubby. If I'm lucky enough to find things, I usually buy multiples in different colors. I hate to shop, so anything that works gets my vote. I'll pick five or six, pay, get out and go home.

Is it just my opinion, or do the retailers think we live in some third world country where people are starving? Everything is geared toward some twig thin, underdeveloped stick figure! This is America... people eat. Research shows we are a fat nation. Get with the program and design some clothes to accommodate regular bodies that don't live at the gym. We count too!

Ok, that was a little detour and I apologize. My mind tends to wander and before I know it, I'm off on some tirade.

I have a crazy tee shirt I love! Bought it cheap, it's thin, wider at the bottom, has a stick thin gal with a glass of wine and a saying that suits me. It says... "I'm an acquired taste". That's me, for sure! I can't remove Ms. Twig, but I am considering dragging out the paint and giving her some flaws... for added comfort!

I should give that gal some extra baggage, less cleavage, messy hair and spotty skin! It would make me feel better. That, I could do. Too bad I'm not artistic enough to change that wine into a margarita!

Saturday, July 11, 2009

For quite some time I've been complaining that my brain doesn't work. I do my best to keep it hidden from the public, but people close to me might agree I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer. A couple of years ago, someone sent me an email, you know the one with the silhouette of the spinning girl? The first time I received it the girl appeared to spin in both directions. Don't believe the explanation came with that one. If she spins to the left, you are left brained, right, right brained, both means you use both sides of your brain and are likely a genius. My cousin and I laughed and thought it was crazy that we could see her change, back and forth. Got that same email again, recently. No matter how long I looked at it, that stupid girl never went to the left! Checked later, no luck. Thought maybe I was just having more of an "off" day than usual. Went back today hoping that girl would spin to the left for me. Oh, heck no! She refused! "WITCH!" So, I guess it's time to face the facts. The left side of my brain is no longer working. I told you. This is one of those "I told you so" moments that brings no pleasure, whatsoever!!! Now it's official. I'm praying it's not permanent. I'll check back on the witch later... much later! It's going to take some time to adjust and... I'm only working with half a brain.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Kids! You never know what to expect. "Tink" is certainly no exception to that theory. Unhappy to happy, all in the same panties. My youngest granddaughter has missed me lately. My Daughter quit her job a good while back, to be a stay a home Mommy. Seemed like a wonderful idea at the time, at least until my son in law lost his job almost eight months ago. When she was offered her old job back a few days ago, she took it. On her third day back at work, Son in law got a call back to his former job. He called and asked me to watch Tink, so he could fill out paperwork and attend a Safety Council meeting. I was nervous and totally unprepared for what to expect with babysitting again. I'm out of practice. The main problem with Tink is getting the child to eat. It can be a real battle. Just when you think you are on to something that works, she decides she doesn't like it. Other than that, she's a pretty good kid.

When my daughter got off yesterday, (son in law was still filling out paperwork) she came to pick up Tink. She cried. Did not want to go home, she wanted to stay with Granny. While this melts my heart, I can only imagine the pain it causes my Daughter. Thank goodness she realizes, as I do, the new will wear off and that Tink adores her. Since Daughter was not scheduled to work the next day (today) and Tink was crying, I told her Granny would see her and Mommy tomorrow, thinking we could spend some much needed time together, while son in law was at work. I've missed that.

Forward to today... son in law didn't get to start the job. More paperwork and security checks and wasted dollars doing the same BS again. I won't get into that. Decided to keep our date to get together and include him in the mix. Had he not been there, what ended up happening would not have happened. Tink, being the picky eater she is, nearly fell out of the chair when she saw her plate. Her lip was on the floor. She loves chicken nuggets, just not used to seeing them in pinwheel shapes. My body tensed in preparation for the embarrassing tirade I was sure would erupt at any moment. Just prior to Mount Saint Tinks eruption, son in law tore one in half and managed to convince her that it was indeed chicken nuggets. Volcano capped, eruption minimal... situation under control. Then it happened! Tink spots her daddy's Adam's apple. Thought daddy had something wrong with his neck. He jokingly told her it was a frog in his throat. She reached with concern to touch it... he swallowed... it rose and fell. The look on that child's face was priceless! Fear, concern, panic and more, all rolled into one amazing little face. No camera could have captured it, even if we'd had one aimed and ready to shoot. It happened too quick. She had no clue why four adults were falling out of their chairs, laughing. Her concern was for the frog in daddy's throat. She told him to open his mouth, so she could get it out. I offered her a fork!!!

Saturday, July 4, 2009

I had a memory! Used to have a million. Somewhere along the way, they got lost. Not totally lost, just pushed down under the garbage of daily living. Takes a lot to stir them up. On rare occasions someone manages to make one surface. I recently had one of those occasions.

Our local paper used to carry a column written by Mark Hayter, a man that grew up in my hometown. Reading them became a way for me to access things long forgotten. He writes about memories of the old neighborhood, school, family, parents and daily living. Things most people can remember without much prodding. People other than me. Might be the old... use it or lose it phenomenon. I stay so tucked away, isolated in my home and rarely attempt to maintain contact with people. Not because I don't have a desire to be around others, it's more of a safety mechanism. Protection for them as well as myself. Depression and chemical sensitivities have a way of doing that. Never know what might set me off. Combine that with dread, fear and never ending fatigue... I can be volatile! Trust me, I'm safer at home.

Back to the reason for this post. Mark's column disappeared from the local paper. Lots of other things, too. Mostly the paper became, for lack of another description, obsolete. With a rapidly growing population, it should have increased, not the other way around. It has dwindled to a mere few pages of not very newsworthy news. I called to inquire the reasons for the decline, as well as the shoddy service and the disappearance of Mark's column. Was given nothing more than polite lip-service. But, and this is a big but... not long after, I found Mark! Oldest Son had created a MySpace page for me and I found Mark's sister Jill, on our high school alumni page. Sent her a message saying how much I missed her brother's writings. That one message started a whole new friendship, along with access to Mark's column. He is still in other papers, just not mine. Mark and his brother Al have a wonderful site called "From The Rooftop". I won't even try to explain everything those guys have going on. If you get a chance, you should visit. My friend Jill visits her brothers on the Rooftop, all the time. Close family. Plenty of room up there. I'm sure they would welcome you to join them. Tell them I sent you. Good folks I tell you and funny, too. If those guys can stir up my dormant memories, imagine what they could do for someone with active brain cells. You might feel the urge to start a blog or something. You never know!

*In case you're wondering why the print is bigger, a couple of people complained that because of the black background and small print, they were having some trouble reading my little blog. I like the black background so I compromised and made the print bigger. Don't worry little Sister! I didn't tell anyone it was you and me that complained about the small print. Our secret is safe. Nobody has to know we have crappy, old lady eyesight. Now if I could just figure out how to make text messages larger!

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Daddy feeding "Special Angel" breast milk in a bottle, not long after she was born. That was one of the few things he couldn't do on his own... nurse the baby. Other than that, he had it all under control. Can't wait to see how he handles the teen years!

Ten years ago on this date, my very first Grandchild was born. Hard to believe that much time has passed. Her birth was special in more ways than one. The fact that she was our first is something in its own right. The fact she was born in my home makes it extraordinary! Her Mommy (and Daddy and Dixie) had just come to stay with us, so she wouldn't be by herself across town. My oldest Son had just started a new job and there was a good chance he might be out of pocket. Her due date was ten days away when labor started. I had to inform her she was in labor, she had no clue. My daughter and I had been secretly timing her, just from the funny little looks she would get on her face during contractions. She didn't believe me. Son made it home and we called family and a few friends to join us. Her folks were a couple of hours away, but drove lightning speed and made it fine. The house was filled with people. Not long after the midwife, her daughter and a close family friend that was training to be a midwife got here, my "Special Angel" was born. Other than quiet cheers and a few happy tears, there was no screaming involved. Her Mommy had her without any obvious pain, and was quiet as a church mouse. She and the baby got into a tub of something herbal and soothing afterward. I did get a few fingerprint bruises from Mommy gripping my upper arms as she was pushing. Such a small price to pay. My youngest Son videoed the entire delivery and a room full of people got to witness the birth. Have to say that was one of the most amazing times in my life. I've been involved in births before, but when your child is having a child of their own, it's different.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SPECIAL ANGEL! GRANNY LOVES YOU ALWAYS AND FOREVER."

*Three granddaughters have followed over the years and though they can't claim to be the first... each one is "Special" in their own way. I was blessed to be able to witness their births as well. Miracles, all!

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About Me

Ms. Anthropy aka Ms. A (misanthropy: n. dislike or distrust of mankind)
I'm a coffee loving, brain dead wife, mother and grandmother... that stays home too much, pondering things I can't possibly fix. When my kids have a problem, I take it personally. Bringing them into this world has left me with a sense of responsibility I'm unable to ignore. Them being adults has not diminished those feelings.
I am too honest, a bit sarcastic and will criticize myself more than you will be able to do. I would appreciate you not trying.